SelfContainment
by ReflectiveSoul
Summary: What does it mean to be a genius? What does it mean being superior in mind? What does it bring? What does it harbor? What does it mean... to be alone?


I'm very, very sorry for not submitting for awhile, but school has wreaked havoc with my schedule. And also, an over abundance of thought and fragments of memories cloud my mind for the most part. I hope that the summer brings by a refreshing wave of relief, so that I can get back to writing.

However, this little one shot is kinda like my ambiguous feelings that are messing with the creative process. I can honestly believe that this is what Tech may have felt during his time at Acme Tech, though much more exaggerated. I hope it doesn't seem too depressing, but it ends with a good note… a note that strengthens the bonds between Tech and his friends. Somehow… it fits in to why Tech may have joined the Loonatics.

Loonatics Unleashed © WarnerBros.

* * *

I write to myself… what a day this has been. So many mishaps, and still many ahead. Why do I do it? What is all this for?

They say people are born with talent. Special gifts and personalities that make everyone unique. Yet somehow, we have all been bound to a general law that assumes everyone is equal in ability. I'm no social scientist, but what I do know is that the law can't account for everything. Day by day I work and I strive. Ever since I was young, my natural curiosity has always led me to the sciences.

Why?

Couldn't I have just been as well equipped to consume other topics of interest? As fate would have it, I have been given both a blessing and a curse through and through. Why is it that some are more endowed to socialize, while others to thought? That's the question I pose.

I have lived life, consumed in my work. Never a moment's rest to relate. But what is driving me? Why am I enraptured with my inventions? Couldn't I have just as easily spent time with my colleagues with equal distribution? I wonder… do others suffer the same affliction as me? Is anyone, from any walk of life, able to relate to my illness? I may never know… but I do know that I suffer alone.

That is the key… self-containment. Everyday I find myself, almost mechanically, performing my duties to which not even I know to what end. For what do I create these pieces of highly crafted machinery? For a grade? For praise? For acknowledgement? For the betterment of mankind? What?

On and on I go, like a puppet without a puppeteer. An effect without a cause. This is my disease. Every moment I am living, every moment without something to do… I come closer to madness. I have to say that this is what philosophers must feel like. Unfortunately for me, I have not the strength of which they can endure such tormenting thoughts. Then I suppose the geniuses… like me. They must know how I suffer. Never a day when I don't think of another idea, another theory. But what feeds me this creativity? Why was I given the burden of bearing this information? Could it be that some people were meant to be carriers of the future?

If so, what cruel fate has decided this! Why do I have to suffer alone!

… Life always seems the hardest when no one is there with you to help. We are all beings never meant to be left behind. We are social creatures, and yet… some have been able to seclude themselves. Why haven't I been able to adjust? Why haven't I began to feel more accustomed to this overwhelming void?

…D-do I want to know this feeling?

Somehow, life continues. Somehow… I carry on. Sometimes I think I'm just along for the ride. Being a scientist and always apt to think things to their most logical conclusions, I leave myself to nothing but an empty shell.

That is how I come to know that loneliness is my curse.

Day after day, week after week, people go by and interact with you… if not, at least for just a bit. These connections that happen as planned or even suddenly, no matter how thin or long lasting they may be… you treasure them all the same. If I were to be left alone, and no one to share my ideas with… I would certainly go mad.

To be alone… would be sentencing mental insanity.

I knew that all to well. Reality seemed to slip by me, day in and day out. Being in my prime, I should have a more positive outlook; be filled with the energy and robustness of youth. Yet as one who may have never experienced tragedy, has experienced psychological death. What then holds me in place to societal standards? What then prevents me from committing every crime in the book? It may be my personal principles, but an ethical quandary nonetheless.

… But even though this train of thought could lead to serious delirium and insanity, I've discovered what keeps me going; what keeps me from abolishing everything I have come to know and hold.

People.

Yes… those whom I interact with. The ones whom I felt the least attached to, the ones whom I doubted, the ones who ridicule me… are indeed what keep me alive. Everything continues whether you like it or not. Even if you remained reclusive from day one, you can't deny that people become attached. I have read somewhere a passage that I will always keep near my heart. Words, written language, "inventions" that were meant to convey ideas. Something as simple as a scribble on paper… has the power to change a life. I quote:

"_For none of us lives to himself alone and none of us dies to himself alone."_

Ace… Lexi… Duck… Slam… Rev………

I'm glad I believed in those words. I'm glad.

----

_From the inner journal of Tech E. Coyote_


End file.
